


Microcosmos

by pauraque



Series: The grass people [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-Generation Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-01
Updated: 2004-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Take care, Harry,' said Lupin quietly. 'Keep in touch.' -Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix</p>
            </blockquote>





	Microcosmos

**Author's Note:**

> For Lycoris, who asked for Remus/Harry dealing with Sirius's death.

7 July

'What do you think?' Lupin says, squinting up at the box office marquee. 'There's a documentary on insects that's meant to be good.'

Harry looks up sceptically at the title. He thinks about suggesting something else, a comedy or something. But then again, they saw what Harry wanted last time. He agrees to the bug movie.

The cinema is cool and dry, a relief from the summer haze outside. The katydids creep delicately across the screen, big as monsters. Harry glances at Lupin every once in a while, trying to be subtle about it. The whiteblue light flickers over Lupin's face, making his skin smooth, emphasizing the dark hollows of his cheeks. He's absorbed in the film, not conscious of himself, and his expression falls in a way that makes him look hurt and worried.

*

16 July

'It was just well done,' Lupin is saying, turning up one palm and shaking his head, chewing. He gestures a lot when talking about a film he liked; his eyes seem a bit brighter. 'You realise at the end that they left all the clues you need to work it out. Like the name on the sailboat, remember?'

'Yeah,' Harry says, and he's smiling, though he doesn't really like mysteries.

*

24 July

Harry picks the onions off his cheeseburger. Lupin is sitting not quite next to him, not quite across, having grilled salmon and a glass of wine. The seats of the booth are soft and close, making Harry sleepy. The fan makes shadow-stripes flicker over Lupin's face, and his careful fingers working like a katydid's legs with the knife and fork.

Harry notices how the bones stick out in Lupin's wrists, and he thinks his own fingers could circle them, easily, if he were to shift over and take them in his hands.

Harry excuses himself to go to the loo, and as he's coming back, he hears the waitress asking Lupin if his son would like any more lime and soda.

*

1 August

They come out of the cinema and it's dark, too late to eat. Lupin doesn't say anything right away, puts his hands in his coat pockets and cracks his neck. Harry wanders slowly over to the kerb, and runs the toe of his shoe over the edge of it, absently. He doesn't want to go home yet, and tries to think of something else they could do this time of night.

After a moment, he feels Lupin's long, skinny hand on his shoulder. He turns, startled. Lupin isn't someone who touches a lot, who hugs or gives pats on the back. That was always Sirius.

They look at each other. Lupin's eyes are dark and soft. He kneads Harry's shoulder for a moment, and then his hand drops away, fingertips trailing down the sleeve of Harry's jumper. Harry holds his breath.

'Well,' Lupin says, pushing the word out in a short puff of air. He gives a faint, crooked smile. 'It's rather late.'

*

8 August

At a quiet moment in the film, Harry notices that Lupin's breathing has become deep and regular. He glances over— his head is tilted back against the seat, his mouth slack and slightly open.

The cinema is nearly empty. Harry awkwardly pushes up the armrest between them, and carefully leans up against Lupin's side. The worn cardigan is soft on Harry's cheek, and he can feel the shape of Lupin's shoulder beneath it, his warmth.

At some point, Harry realises that Lupin is awake again, and hasn't pushed him away.


End file.
